


Annoytagonist

by egossweetheart



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Actually there is blood but it doesn't come out of someone's body, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Casual Violence, Don't Worry About It, Homestuck - Freeform, Karkat Vantas - Freeform, M/M, NSFW, Superherostuck, dave strider - Freeform, davekat - Freeform, no actual blood though, rimjob, superhero au, wait
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 06:45:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16592849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egossweetheart/pseuds/egossweetheart
Summary: It's a normal night on patrol when a chaotic third party takes a mechanical whisk to the nights events.And then doesn't leave.





	Annoytagonist

**Author's Note:**

> this is a stupidly long oneshot i wrote because i needed more superhero aus with chaotic third party dave, and more davekat where karkat is being absolutely fucking ravished.

Karkat Vantas has the very special privilege of being the most unlucky bastard to pace the earth. He would very gladly tell you what drew him to that conclusion, and it would end up being an age long conversation full of tragic twists and turns, interspersed with melodrama and stuffed with personal bias to the point of bursting. Karkat is like that. He’s passionate about many things, but especially and particularly, his own suffering.

In reality, he has been blessed with quite a few interesting circumstances, not all of them in his control. Karkat was born with some very unusual traits. He comes from a long line of genetically mutated humans- on his father’s side- granted with the ability to control the flow and potency of blood, and all cells held within. Including an increased healing factor as well as the ability to produce form and function from it’s liquid stream, it remained a closely guarded secret within the Vantas family, never being too bold or extreme with its usage.

Somethings were very well within his control. He has a decently paying job working at a place he didn’t hate, and a degree he worked very hard for. He has a loving family, and a cozy apartment to sleep at night. Not that he does. No, there are two problems with that. Karkat is unfortunately cursed with chronic insomnia, and a martyr complex.

Karkat spends most of his nights as a hero, fighting ridiculous villains and trying to rehabilitate the criminal underworld one punch at a time.

He goes by the title “The Sanguine Knight”, or just Knight if you don’t want to deal with a mouthful when referring to him, and he has a reasonable fanbase within Skaia city.

Tonight is another night on patrol for him, waiting diligently for any signs of trouble to arise within the city. He had a tip off from one of his compatriots about the warehouse district. Of fucking course it was the warehouse district. It’s always the warehouse district. If it wasn’t, criminals wouldn’t be so obvious, and that would make Karkat’s job harder.

Right now, he’s sitting on the roof of one of these buildings, looking down through a skylight and into a vat of green goo. Milling around the goo are several different grunts, all slathered in black and white greasepaint, and wearing increasingly edgier clown paraphernalia. At the back of the room, one clown sits on a stack of barrels.

He uncorks the top, sticking his finger in and watching the neon yellow-green ooze down as he pulls it out. He’s smiling dumbly, seemingly enjoying the way its viscous consistency slides down the digit. He sucks it into his mouth, and the haze of his eyes pulls further in, sedating him. Karkat knows him. He’s seen him do things like this before, and knows how much worse consuming sopor would be for anyone else but Balatron. Balatron, comparatively, is enjoying the nearly deadly tranquilizer with the sort of smug satisfaction you might receive from sticking your finger into a cherry pie you know you shouldn’t be eating, and scooping out the filling until your hand is bright red and dripping.

Karkat has dealt with the clown cult before, many times, and with Balatron and the other 7 clowns residing inside the warehouse, he’s confident he can do his job just fine. He just has to be careful about this. He edges around the skylight, carefully opening a pane above the walkway surrounding the vat. When one clown’s path is about to intersect with his fall trajectory, Karkat leaps into the hole.

He lands on the clown’s shoulders, listening to the crunch as the clown’s legs crumble underneath them both. Karkat uses the shoulders as leverage when he jumps off, landing in a slight crouch behind him. He pulls out his sickles to slam the hilts into his back, hitting the small of his back and leaving him yelling. The walkway wobbles with all the movement on it. Karkat takes the initiative and leaps over the side, rolling behind another stack of barrels while the other cultists investigate what happened.

He uncorks a small vial from his belt, feeling the liquid activate behind the glass surface. He flicks his wrist and watches as it exits the vial, soaring up to the walkway. More clowns join the first on the walkway. With another sharp tug of his hand, the blood solidifies into a solid shard, flying through the metal cables holding up the platform on one side as several clowns tumble into the vat of sopor below. Every clown has to prove they can handle sopor consumption before they’re allowed to join, so Karkat isn’t worried about any of them dying. He likes to prevent death wherever he can. The blood soars back and returns to his vial. With three clowns down, Karkat continues through the rest of the warehouse, trying to stay small and unseen. They must be on high alert now. Well, as high as you can be while _high_. He hears Balatron bark some orders to a few other clowns and the search continues.

Karkat’s first objective is finding out how to destroy that large vat, or at least make the sopor unusable. Dumping his blood stores into it is a last resort, he doesn’t want to spend another night playing blood donor for himself. Anything to dull the potency or ruin the formula.

He sees one clown pass by him. This girl is fucking tall. He stalks behind her, quiet as anything, before leaping up and hooking his arm around her throat. He covers her mouth with his gloved hand, and holds. She’s strong, but with enough pressure on her artery, eventually she passes out. He continues on.

Behind him, he sees a flicker of movement. He stays on guard, and quickly changes course to throw off whoever is behind him, taking a moment to rest. He leans back onto a barrel. He pauses long enough for the stack of barrels behind him to tumble. His panicked face as he whips around to check the damage is the first thing the remaining clowns see, eyes wide behind his mask, frown in a tight line of fear behind his mouth cover. Balatron laughs.

“Well I’ll all up an’ be motherfucked, ain’t this shit serendipitous. It ain’t none like you to be makin’ a fuckin’ racket like this. If nothin’, you be sneakin’ around leechin’n’burrowin’ until we be fuckin’ busted. Real motherfuckin’ tic like.” Balatron is standing on a few metal crates, monologuing as his grunts approach our hero. Karkat has never fought him, and he doesn’t think he could. Not with these odds. Luckily for him, Balatron is usually happy to let other people do the hard work for him. Balatron drops down to sit casually on the edge of the crate, one leg drooping and the other tucked up on top. “Sad I gotta pop you, brother.”

The clowns approach, all of them fast and strong and too much all at once. He’s torn between running and facing the situation like the stubborn asshole he is when his solution presents itself. The air warps, and some guy wearing shades and a pair of sweats poofs behind two of them, mid air, before landing on their heads and kicking down with a sharp leap. He flips, and they fling forward into the metal barrels they had been running on. He doesn’t land, instead disappearing as the air warps again. Karkat now has two clowns coming at him. He pulls out his sickles and twirls them in his hands to get used to the weight.

“What kinda mysterious wonderment was that bullshit all up an’ about?” Balatron stops, hesitates, then gets up. “Take care’a him an’ come back to our mirthful sanctorium with the others.”

With that, Balatron books it. Goddamnit! Karkat slams his blunt sickle into the stomach of a clown before roundhousing them in in the face with his heel. He hears a commotion happening off to the side, with the creaking of metal and a sharp glug of liquid, but he remains focused on the task at hand. He slams his fist into the clown’s nose and moves onto the next. This clown tries to grab him around the middle and hoist him up, but Karkat grips his head and pushes off the ground with his legs, flipping them both in a pseudo-suplex. The clowns ass lands on the floor with a thwap and a crunch, and Karkat decides to book it.

He sees what the noise was about now. The guy from before had managed to find a water hose and was pumping it into the vat. His sweats are draped low on his hips, his shirt a little too tight around the shoulders. His face is a solid jaw easing into the gentle swoop of his cheeks, a little long in the nose and a pair of lips too soft for the slight smirk he wears. His eyebrows are a hard, almost perfectly sculpted line over his shades. Karkat hasn’t gotten a good look at him before, but now that he has the chance to gawk, he _isn’t_ _not_ Karkat’s type. The stranger salutes him over his shades, and Karkat is deeply confused.

He’s seen this guy around town before. Like a local cryptid, he would show up occasionally to fuck with people, and disappear in increasingly frustrating ways. People have pictures of him starting a rave in the middle of town hall, painting dumb drawings on the street, creating a false hollywood sign on the side of the hills outside the city. He was suspected to be behind the museum prank that happened a few weeks ago, where every painting had been replaced by shitty jpeg riddled images of geckos, drawn over with blurry mspaint style neon colors to give them skateboards. Just when it seems like he’s about to be caught, he disappears. He wanders around town in a housecoat and a pair of monster slippers. He appears behind signs without walking towards them, and tries to sell people mcdonalds figurines spray painted gold. Karkat doesn’t know if he’s a villain or if he just enjoys chaos, but either way, he’s confusing, and this situation isn’t helping his perception any.

Karkat turns around to check on the clowns, who are very much still passed out, before looking back up at this guy. He’s standing on the remaining catwalk, holding the hose like it’s a casual sunday and he’s just watering his garden. “What the everloving fuck are you doing here.”

“I was in the neighbourhood. Y’know, like, casually walkin’ around warehouses as you do, and I heard some goddamn rumpus going down so I was like, why the fuck not?” His answer comes with a severe amount of lackadaisicality, a little shrug punctuating the end of it.

“Yeah. Really convincing. Don’t you have a burger king to deface?”

“Done that already. What I haven’t done is get to talk to a bonafide superhero.” He sets the hose down so it’s still streaming into the tank, and warps. He appears right in front of Karkat, offering a fist bump. He’s taller by a few notable inches. “Nice to meet you, blood boy.”

Blood boy? Karkat curls his lip behind his facemask, but the squint of his eyes is very apparent. He’s not a _boy_. He still bumps back, because he’s not a fucking monster either. “It’s Sanguine Knight. Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m an enigma my man. You can call me Dave, though.”

A real person name. Bland, but real. That’s surprising, but then again, most things about Dave are. Karkat knows a lot of different superheros, some more or less willing to have secret identities, and most of them go by their moniker anyway. Dave is so contrarian that even the notion of participating that way seems to be completely unimportant to him.

Karkat’s stumped pout comes across despite the layers of bullshit hiding his face. He comes across as very skeptical, and very snarky. “Right. Well, thanks for the help with the clowns, Dave, but we really should get the fuck out of here before they wake up.”

“Chill, they’re fine. If you’re that antsy ‘bout gettin’ the fuck out though, mind grabbing a bite with me?”

What the fuck was _that_. Karkat is even more confused. He writes a fucking romance column in a tabloid for a living, and yet, romantic pursuits still fucking elude him. This guy is very much coming onto him and he has no idea why. “What.”

“Y’know, grab some late dinner, or, would it be breakfast right now? Fuck it, if we go to Denny’s it doesn’t matter.”

“I.” A distinct pause. Dave’s being very bold. Karkat is kind of into it, but he can’t. Not knowing what he knows about Dave, and not with his other responsibilities. “I have work tomorrow? I need to go home and sleep?”

“Oh dang. Nah it’s ok then man. Some other time?”

“I mean, fucking sure, I guess.”

“Cool, my number’s already in your phone. See you ‘round, Knighty.” And like that, Dave has warped away again, sucking the air out of Karkat’s lungs and the area around him. Karkat stands, gawking at where he was. Quickly, he whips out his phone, checking his contacts. Sure enough, there’s a new number. Instead of a name, it’s just a bunch of apple emojis.

“What the FUCK!”

It’s officially time to go home. Tonight was too fucking much, and he needs to sleep this shit off before more fuckery comes to pass. Karkat leaves the warehouse, kicking the door open and heading home.

* * *

 

There’s no way in hell Karkat is calling Dave. He spent most of his day procrastinating his workflow and staring off into space like some kind of lovelorn dipshit. He’s not in love, he barely knows this guy. He does keep drifting into thoughts of Dave’s hips like a driver falling asleep at the wheel, however, and that’s certainly distressing from every angle. His work day ends with Karkat pulling out his phone to stare at the number. He’s not going to call.

Exiting the building, he has yet to put down his cell. He goes into other apps for seconds at a time before snapping back to stare angrily at the number again. This is ridiculous! Why is he so hung up on one chaotic asshole. He’s furiously hovering over the call button when he hears a gasp from behind.

He realizes he’s walked into the middle of the street. The light is green. He whips his head around to see a car approach, and he prepares himself mentally for a long night of healing himself.

Instead, he’s yanked back to the curb by a strong hand and tugged into the arms of a stranger, thrown off his center of balance until he’s practically laying on them. The car rushes past with a honk, and Karkat is staring up at a beautiful jawline. He’s well acquainted with it, since it’s been taking up all his brainspace. Dave looks down at him with a slight smile before bursting out into laughter.

It takes a lot of self-control not to go off at him, since technically Karkat shouldn’t know who he is. Sanguine does, Karkat does not. Instead, Karkat starts up his own nervous laugh to copy Dave’s.

“Damn dude, were your twitter notifs that important?” Dave still hasn’t released him from his hold, and the warmth in his hands is going right to Karkat’s cheeks. He really wishes he was wearing his gear right now.

“No, it’s-” He scrambles to put his phone back in his pocket, realizing how incriminating it might be for Dave to see the same phone he had last night in some civilian’s hands. He shoves it in his pocket and hopes that Dave didn’t see anything. Especially not the string of apple emojis on his contacts list. He pulls himself out of his arms and stands as non-awkwardly as he can manage. He lowers his voice a little to try and throw him off, and to hide the embarrassing flirty pitch he started out with. “I got distracted. Thanks for uh, y’know. That?”

Karkat’s face is bright red, and Dave hasn’t stopped laughing at him yet. This is why he doesn’t have a boyfriend yet. Aside from being unavailable literally every night, that is. Dave pats his shoulder and wipes a tear from his eye. “Man, just fuckin’ pay attention for me, ok? This city is swamped with heroes but they’re too busy to be tuggin’ you away from cars.”

“Yeah. Got it.” Karkat tries not to look offended by Dave thinking he can’t handle himself. Sanguine can, Karkat can’t. He can’t help the slight tone shift. He’s embarrassed enough already, he doesn’t need a lecture too. His eyes are slightly narrowed.

There’s a moment of recognition on Dave’s face before he gives Karkat another pat on the shoulder, and starts walking away. “Aite. Have a good one then.”

Karkat waves. He’s still in shock. When Dave walks past a lamppost and warps away, Karkat lets out the air he’s been holding in his lungs. He usually doesn’t have to talk to people he knows from that part of his life during the day. He really needs a better emergency plan for these situations. He turns, waits for the crosswalk to change, and continues home.

* * *

 

 

Getting back to his apartment from that point on isn’t an issue. He unlocks the door, throws his keys down into his keybowl, and starts taking off his jacket. The quiet comfort of his apartment is something he doesn’t get to invest much time into, but when he is here, it’s like a fortress of coze. He leans against the wall to pull of his shoes, and with the force of his motion, is forced to look up.

There on his fire escape, sitting on the staircase leading up to the next apartment, is Dave. Dave with his beautiful, annoying, clearly very eager face. He waves from behind the window, and Karkat freezes. What the FUCK. He yanks off the other shoe, looks down and tries to figure out what to do. How did he get here? How did he find his apartment? Why does Karkat get himself into these messes? He just keeps looking down and tries to move through his living room like he didn’t see anything.

Dave knocks on the window. Karkat freezes again. Slowly, he turns to face Dave, who’s motioning for Karkat to open the window for him. Karkat glares. No. He shakes his head. Dave pouts. Karkat crosses his arms. No! Dave clasps his hands together and gets on his knees. Karkat approaches the window, looking down at Dave. Convince him. Dave holds up a bag of greek takeout. Karkat unlatches the window and yanks it up, letting Dave crawl through the opening.

“Why are you here?”

“I just saved your life dude, are you really gonna be this harsh?”

FUCK, RIGHT. Karkat pulls a face, about to respond when Dave interrupts.

“Ha, nah, don’t worry about it. I know you didn’t need it.”

Oh, fuck, does he know? Karkat squints at him while closing the window. “What do you mean.”

“Dude, you can’t keep pulling glares like that and not expect me to put two and two together. I can do basic addition, and the way this shit adds up, you’re doing the alter-ego tango with a knight and a guy who apparently doesn’t pay attention to traffic laws. I’d know that curly black head of hair if it slapped me in the face and told me to call it daddy.” He moves further into Karkat’s apartment, opening up the bag of take out on his coffee table and making himself comfortable.

Karkat is standing with his mouth open, flapping it while he tries to find a response. Finally, his face drops into an angry cinch. “That’s really fucking presumptuous of you. What if I’m just some fucking guy off the street huh? Do you know how creepy this whole setup is? You followed me home, you know, like _stalkers do_?! You’re not making a phenomenal fucking impression here.”

Dave waves him off with a single hand. “Chill. If you were some guy, you’d be confused, not yelling about the audacity of it all. Plop a squat and eat some chicken.”

Sneering, he does. He sits down next to Dave with his arms crossed while Dave waves a chicken skewer in his face. He bites down on the meat and side eyes him, and Dave barks out a laugh.

“Gimme your name, man.”

“I did.” He takes the stick from Daves hand and rips the meat off with his teeth.

“So your name is Sanguine Knight. On paper and everything. All of your friends text you up like, hey, what’s going on Sandy, want to grab a drink?”

“As far as you know, yes.” It’s not totally inaccurate. Karkat’s life is pretty empty outside of his night job, and he _has_ gotten drinks with some of his allies before. He keeps chewing on the meat while Dave pulls out some more food.

“Aite, aite. Fair. Seems a little clunky for shouting out in bed, but ok.”

Karkats face goes instantly red, chicken hanging out of his mouth. Is this guy for real? Dave isn’t making any overtly sexual motions, but Karkat does take the time to notice how obvious the muscles in his back are as he reaches across the table. His shirt isn’t necessarily straining, but there is a distinct tug of the fabric over his shoulders. Just a little snug. He takes a firm bite of his chicken to hold off the small hungry noise he knows is going to pour out if he leaves his mouth unfilled. “Deal with it.”

Dave turns his head to look over his shoulder at Karkat, beautiful brows quirked up. He seems surprised that Karkat isn’t about to throw him out for the comment. He’s looking for confirmation that Karkat hates the idea, and all that he’s met with are Karkat’s avoidant eyes and bright red face. He laughs. “I think I’ll cope, dude.”

Dave offers Karkat a box of pita and tzatziki, snagging himself a salad and leaning back into the couch. There’s a notable shift of position when Dave lands again, mainly, that he’s sitting flush to Karkat’s side, thigh to thigh. Karkat can’t ignore how flirtatious Dave is being for much longer. Not commenting on it is driving him crazy, and he can only shove so much food in his mouth before he chokes, though his nerves force a bite of pita in anyway. He sneaks a side glance at Dave, who’s pulling a tomato off of his plastic fork with way too much tenderness. His lips are practically stroking the damn thing. He finally sucks it in and turns back to Karkat.

“Do you do this with everyone you talk to?” Karkat finally talks, a thin line forming between his eyebrows. Is it anxiety? Concern? Anger? Who knows, but he’s already starting to get a wrinkle there.

“Nah, you’re getting some one on one Strider time. That’s coveted, by the way. I’m a straight up Gatsby impersonator with how fuckin’ little attention I give people. Welcome to my humble presence, Mr. Carraway.” He spears a green pepper with his fork and pulls it off again with his teeth.

“So, you’re a douchebag then.”

“In so few words, I guess so.”

“At least you’ve taken eighth grade english.” Karkat rolls his eyes.

“I’ve gone all the way, Sandy. Ask me anything about lit classics and I guarantee I’ve read the sparknotes front to back.”

“A man who can google? What a fucking catch.” He snatches a tomato from Daves salad and pops it into his mouth in an overly spiteful way. Stolen food tastes better, that’s a fact.

“I like to think so.” Dave leans forward towards Karkats pelvis, taking a bite of pita bread left in his lowered hand and pulling back up. Karkat is frozen in his seat, blushing again.

“You could’ve fucking asked.” He tugs back his pita bread. If he eats more of it now, that’s an indirect kiss. He hasn’t even had a direct kiss since college, and even then that was with his drunk roommate, with his equally drunk girlfriend watching. It wasn’t a proud moment.

“You would’ve said no. ‘Sides, I bought it.” Dave shrugs, brushing his arm against Karkat’s and sending a rush up his spine. Dave lifts his arm to go over the back of the couch, hooking over Karkat’s shoulder. His attention is back on his salad.

Karkat takes a better look at Dave, and from the side, he can sort of see his eyes. They’re pretty like the rest of his face, even if he can’t see the color. “You need to learn to take no for an answer, fuckhead.”

“You also haven’t given it to me as an answer yet.” He slides another fork of veggies into his face. “Say you want me out of here, and I’m gone. Promise.”

“No strings? You’ll just go?” Karkat doesn’t know if he wants that. Admittedly, living alone like this has been pretty lonely. He doesn’t have many opportunities to go out and socialize unless it’s proceeding a fight, or talking about one that just happened, or bantering with villains. He hasn’t really thought about how much of his regular life was taken over by his nightlife until now. Even then, it’s not like he’s escaping it here. Dave is an unaffiliated party, but a member of that lifestyle just the same. He just buys into it less, takes it less seriously.

“Yeah. I mean I won’t want to, but I’m not a total dick. You should be into what’s going down just as much as I am.”

Apparently, he’s also not a total dick, like Karkat originally thought. Dave is practically offering himself up on a silver platter, roasted to perfection and topped off with an apple between his pretty lips.

Karkat has also been terribly lonely for a long time now. It can’t hurt to stave it off a little, even for one night. It might hurt in the morning, but he’s used to it. He’s an adult. He can deal with it. “You can stay. Just don’t do anything fucking weird with my apartment.”

Dave cracks an actual smile, tugging Karkat in for a side hug. Karkat wrinkles his nose at the sudden contact. “Hell yeah man! You get the staunchest promise possible. This shit is inscribed into the tombs of time with a lifetime seal of commitment.”

“Got it.” That’s, pretty intense. Karkat looks over at him with a little confusion. Maybe he just means that as an “ _I’m not going to come back to your place and trash it later_ ” clause. Karkat pulls his eyes away from him to look at the pita in his hand, leaning forward to set it down on the table.

Dave is looking at Karkat pretty fondly when he pops back up, pulling loose curls away from his face with his hand, where they inevitably fall back into place. Dave takes a short, stifled breath. “Hey, can I kiss you?”

“What?”

“Sorry, I figured I’d at least ask? You seem like the kind of dude who needs to talk things over before anything happens.” Dave rubs a hand over the back of his neck, looking down. Is he nervous? If Karkat wasn’t so flustered, he might have time to be smug about that.

“Not, necessarily? Uh.” Karkat gives a brief, nervous chortle, pulling his sweater down slightly. He needs something to do with his hands. Suddenly every unoccupied part of his body feels awkward, and needs something to do to counteract it. “Yes?”

Dave smiles again, and Karkat’s chest fills with something. Dave might be an agent of chaos, but he’s too pretty to be anything but heaven sent. That smile is doing terrible things to Karkat’s heart. Dave leans in. “Is that an enthusiastic yes or an _if it’ll make you leave me alone_ yes?”

“It’s an _I’m really bad at talking about romantic action before it happens, just fucking do it_ yes.” Karkat’s heart is pumping, breath caught in his chest, puffing up his shoulders and drawing complete tension through him. Dave laughs.

“Sweet.”

He lifts his free hand to Karkat’s jaw, running the soft pad of his thumb over the surface of his slight stubble. He pulls Karkat toward him slightly before pressing their lips together. Dave is soft, slow. He’s not being demanding about it, instead letting Karkat set the pace. For now, Karkat is caught up in the moment, unable to do much of anything while he figures out where to put himself. He places one hand on Dave’s chest, letting the moment sit.

He acclimates. They spend a few minutes in this easy silence, enjoying small contact and shared body heat.

Karkat remembers what Dave is here for, and he leads the change in direction. He pulls away for a moment to move Dave’s salad, before hooking his leg over Dave’s lap and moving to sit on his thighs. Dave looks visibly surprised. Before he can make a comment about it, Karkat digs back in, hands sliding over his shoulders and hanging over the back of the couch, arms resting around Dave’s neck. Their mouths move together fluidly, clashing and smoothing out before coming back in another rush of necessity. Karkat is the first to open his mouth, taking Dave’s tongue in with a soft suck, hand moving to hold the side of his face. Dave’s hands make a home on Karkat’s hips, and Karkat gets comfortable closer to Dave’s. With the new proximity, he can feel Dave’s stiffness grow underneath his own.

He moves in with a short grind, with Dave pulling back slightly. His expression is hard to read with the shades on. “You sure you wanna do this?”

Normally? No. Karkat isn’t the type to do one night stands. The mix of lonely need and available consenting parties has changed that. Time and opportunity make it hard to deny himself. “Yeah. You still want to?”

“Yeah. Just don’t want you to do something you’re gonna regret tomorrow, y’know?” There’s a pause, before Dave lets out a concerned huff and lifts them both up from the couch, holding Karkat under his thighs. “Where’s your room?”

“Past the kitchen, left door.”

Dave walks them around the couch and past the kitchen, opening the door to Karkat’s room while maintaining the hold. It’s an impressive feat, considering how much muscle Karkat has built up on the job. He’s a pretty stocky build. Dave shuts the door with his foot and sets him down on the bed. What Karkat doesn’t expect is Dave kneeling on the floor beneath him. “You wanna take these off for me, or do I get the honors.”

Karkat pauses. He can’t remember what underwear he put on today. At least he showered this morning? If he knew he was going to be fucking a hot mysterious stranger, he would’ve prepped better. “Let me do it.”

Dave leans back on his hands and sits to watch. Karkat has to sit up more to properly deal with himself. He undoes the top button, pressing his thumbs in under the waistline and around before slowly tugging off his black jeans. He lifts his hips. His lower lip is caught between his teeth. Finally, they slide off, dropping beside the bed and leaving him in a pair of black boxer-briefs. Thank fuck he wore passable underwear. Dave looks like he’s having a good time. He nods his head at Karkats waist, like he’s waiting for more, and Karkat starts the process again with his boxers.

It’s a bit more involved this time. He pulls down on the elastic, tentative, cloying, pressing against his half hard dick until he’s forced to move past it. He lets it rest against his hips. There’s a delicious shiver that comes with it, knowing he’s exposing himself like this for an audience. That might be a little fucked up. Karkat is a little fucked up. Dave hasn’t looked away once. His boxers slide down his thighs, and fall to the floor next to his jeans. Karkat looks at Dave, who seems to be staring attentively at him, and Karkat’s cock gives a distinctive twitch from the attention. His head is rubbing against the light scratchy surface of his sweater.

Dave finally moves forward again. Karkat spreads his thighs a little further to allow him in, but Dave stops, pressing a kiss to the soft skin at the base of his thigh, moving further as he continues with his mouth. He stops close to Karkats crotch, long enough to leave a shallow mark right at the meat of it, and Karkat can’t help but lift his hand to his mouth to keep from gasping.

“You’re fucking beautiful.” Dave’s eyebrows are pointed down in concentration as he continues leaving small marks all over Karkat’s thighs, hands holding the thick surface still no matter how shakey they get.

Karkat doesn’t know what to do about this. Attention isn’t something he’s used to, not so naked as this. Not without layers of protection and social barriers between him and the people who look up to him. The small “fuck” he lets out is more pathetic than he intended it to be.

Dave finally moves in, but instead of going for his dick, he lays the softest kiss over Karkat’s taint, suckling briefly before moving down. He takes some initiative, holding under Karkat’s thighs and lifting up, until Karkat is sitting up on his elbows with his lower body level with the bed. It’s not the direction Karkat thought this was going, but clearly Dave has a plan. So far Karkat has has been totally on board, if the ache in his dick is anything to go by.

Dave leaves Karkat’s thighs to sit on his shoulders, using his hands to grab and pull at Karkat’s generous ass. He takes a moment to appreciate the overflow and tension, leaving Karkat flustered all over again. His mouth eventually moves forward again. With a thick, long stroke of his tongue, he runs ass to taint, the sense of cold saliva sending another shiver up Karkats spine.

Dave’s mouth leaves a few more marks along the inside of his cheeks, until eventually honing in on Karkat’s asshole. Karkat can’t help but let out another noise at this, with Dave’s mouth giving him the same generous attention he gave Karkat’s mouth earlier. Lathing over the hole until slicked saliva leaves the opening soaked enough to give way. When Dave’s tongue enters, the entirety of Karkats body clamps and softens again, his mouth opening in a choked moan he tries desperately to keep behind his hand.

That’s when Dave stops, leaning his head against Karkat’s thigh and giving another tender kiss to the opposite side. “Stop covering your mouth. I like the way you sound.”

Karkat, now fully hard, drops his hand, supporting himself on both arms again. “Fine, fine! just _keep going_.”

“Damn, that’s pretty demanding for someone in such a vulnerable position.” Dave with his two fistfuls of ass, grips harder, digging his nails in. Karkat’s reaction is an immediate drop in timber, his eyelids drooping and the noise he makes ungodly. Dave is smiling, with his lips dropping to give Karkats thigh another kiss. “What’s the magic word?”

“Fuck you.” It comes out a little shaky, but his dick is practically oozing precum at this point and he can’t be bothered to retain more conviction.

“I was gonna say shazam, but damn, not even polite enough to say please?” Dave tuts, shaking his head. “S’ok. I’ll get it out of you eventually.”

Karkat is about to comment on that when Dave’s tongue re-enters him, curling and twisting in ways that have Karkat writhing and keening on his tongue. He can feel Dave’s radiating smugness from here. That fucking guy has the deed to his land, the keys to his house, his hand in marriage, anything if that tongue keeps fucking moving. Just when he thinks his tongue can’t move any deeper, Dave proves him wrong, shoving in deliciously. Karkat’s thighs clench, his dick twitches, and he’s not sure he can take much more of this.

Until Dave pulls out again with wet but audible pop. Karkat doesn’t mean to let out the whine he makes, but it’s too late to close that box, and Dave seems pretty pleased about it. “Got any lube?”

“Mm. Bedside table, bottom drawer. Condoms right next to it.” Karkat doesn’t get out much, but that also means he _doesn’t get out much_. He’s too tired to really care if Dave see’s his moderate sextoy collection. Something tells him Dave has seen worse. Karkat plops back onto his mattress with an exaggerated sigh.

“Cool, cool.” Dave shuffles over on his knees to riffle through Karkat’s stuff. Digging through the door, he tosses the bottle and the box of condoms onto the bed next to Karkat, and starts giggling.

“What. What did you find.”

Dave raises a single pair of fuzzy handcuffs, still not looking at him as he continues laughing. “Can I like, have these?”

“They were a gag gift anyway, go ham.”

He keeps sniggering until he tosses them to the side, pulling off his shirt to throw over top of it. Probably so he doesn’t forget. Karkat focuses on not forgetting the beautiful lattice of musculature that is Dave’s torso.

“So quick question. How often do you put things up your ass?” Dave closes the drawer and stands up, shaking the bottle of lube as he goes.

“Assuming I put shit up my ass.”

“Just saw your sex drawer dude. You can’t hide that shit anymore.” He squeezes out a decent amount on his digit before manhandling Karkat again. This time, his hips are upside down, ankles on Dave’s shoulders while his arms are crossed in front of him. “I pegged you for a bottom the moment you went woozy about me catching you.”

“Shut it. I do shit once or twice a month. You’re gonna have to stretch if you want to fuck me.”

Dave shrugs, circling his finger around Karkat’s asshole, already slick and slightly loose from Daves tongue. “That’s fine. I’m having a good time just fucking around with you. You’re like a soundboard for sex noises.”

Karkat opens his mouth, and like Dave was waiting for it, he slowly slides his finger in. Karkat is left unabashedly whining, trailing off into a dull hum when the finger fully sheathes.

“I knew you’d sound pretty.” Compliments in the middle of sex is not something Karkat is massively used to. Actually, dialogue at all is strange. Dave likes to talk, and ask questions, and tease like nothing else, never shutting up unless his tongue is in someone’s ass. It’s kind of endearing, and it doesn’t help that his voice is soothing. Not to say it’s boring, it has inflection and intention, with a very slight twang, but it’s nice to listen to. If he cared about asmr, Dave would be good at it. Dave’s finger wiggles and he loses his train of thought. “Glad to see you’re back on the mortal plane, you zoned out for a second.”

“It’s not easy trying to think and be present at the same time with a finger in my ass, dipshit.”

“Then stop thinking, asshole.” His finger swirls again, and thoughts are no longer an issue for Karkat. Dave continues rolling around like this for a few minutes before tugging his finger out, squeezing lube on two of his fingers, and slowly pressing in a second. Karkat outright moans. Dave pumps in and out, fingers scissoring before going in again. Karkat’s precum is pooling out in milky globs, denied his first initial release and dragged back so quickly. Dave hasn’t even touched his dick yet.

He continues this process with his third and fourth finger, until he’s happy with the easy clench Karkat’s ass has on the digits. When he finally pulls them all out, Karkat makes a needy, guttural noise that he’s bound to be embarrassed by later. Dave carefully sets down Karkats legs to go take care of himself. At this point, Dave is straining in his pants. He was just distracted, for obvious reasons. He spares a glance at Karkat to see him scoot his body back onto the bed, biting his lip when his ass clenches around nothing. They were valid reasons to be distracted, he decides.

Dave takes off his pants and boxers, finally kicking off his shoes, and approaches Karkat. Karkat is busy trying to hold himself together long enough not to cum on impact. He hasn’t seen Dave’s dick yet. He sits up slightly to look, and looking does not help his situation. Even Dave’s dick is pretty, and considering how weird most dicks look, that’s a fucking feat. It’s a long, slender shaft with a head that curves out to a gentle peak, a little pointed and practically blushing.

“Shouldn’t I- I mean, do you want some help with that?” Karkat offers. He hasn’t wanted a dick in his mouth this bad since… well, never. But that dick right there looks like it would make a nice fit down his throat, and he’s willing to give it a shot.

“You’re about to. Besides, I’m more of a caretaker type. Keep making those noises and you don’t have to do a goddamn thing.” Permission to be a pillow princess? Absogoddamnlutely. It’s a nice change of pace. Usually Karkat likes to be more demanding, but that all went out the window the moment Dave’s tongue entered his ass. It’s time to go a little easy on himself. That dick will go into his mouth though, mark his fucking words.

Dave starts running his hands under Karkat’s sweater, tugging it up as he goes, finding the shirt underneath. His hands pull under that and find nothing but soft skin and raised beauty-marks all up his chest. Karkat helps to pull it off. A few years ago, he would’ve been nervous about something like this, a bit too chubby, a little too short. Right now though, he hasn’t had the time to really focus on it, and while he isn’t exactly skinny, his mass has hardened into something with a little less give, and a little more shape. Dave takes one soft hip in his hand and leans down to kiss Karkats collarbone. His face draws a path up Karkats neck and below his ear, resting there.

“Goddamn immaculate.”

He presses a small kiss into the soft skin below his jaw, before moving back up to start preparing himself again. He gets to watch Karkat puzzle through the comment he just got. Dave strokes himself to the image of Karkat taking it in, before popping open a condom and rolling it on. He runs another thick stream of lube over it before smearing the shaft in it, and lining up. His head is pressed in, and the mewl that comes out of Karkats mouth is outright decadent. Time to fuck with him.

“Aite, time to see if you’ve learned your manners.” Dave removes his hands to gently force karkats legs further apart. The stretch sends another noise through Karkat, though it’s immediately followed by a weak glare. Dave is happy about it. If Karkat was any less headstrong, this might be boring.

“Bite me.”

“Don’t tempt me. That’s not it though.”

“Fuck off.”

“Nope, not it.”

“Fuck you?”

“That’s the goal, but you know what you gotta do first.”

Karkat rolls his eyes, and then he shifts on the bed, and then he crosses his arms, looking away. He looks back at Dave, who seems very content to just stand there with half of his dick head in Karkat’s ass. Karkat glowers, but concedes. “Fine. Please?”

“There we go, that’s a good sandy handy.”

Karkat pauses, frowning. Right. He forgot to fix that. He leans up to put his hand on Dave’s arm. “Dude, just call me Karkat, ok?”

Dave’s smile returns, and he nods in respect. Karkat’s chest feels tight just looking at him, and Dave seems sweeter for knowing. One hand hooks under Karkat’s leg while the other pushes down his chest to make Karkat lay down again. “Whatever you want.”

Slowly, Dave pushes forward. Karkat sucks in a breath, clenching, and Dave leans down, pressing a kiss to his chest and looking up at him. “Calm down. I’m not gonna break you unless you ask me to.”

Karkat nods, taking a deep breath. He feels like the wind is being sucked out of him, or condensed into his chest. He’s used to the feeling, but not how warm it is. Dave’s mouth continues placing little kisses to his chest. It heats up the skin underneath, the caressing lips eventually finding a nipple to focus on. Karkat is reaching his limit, when finally, Dave pushes in to the hilt, staying still to let Karkat adjust. Karkat lets out a melting groan when he finally reaches his peak, panting, toes clenching, heart pumping. His entrance flutters and clenches around Dave’s shaft to relieve the tension of pleasure. Dave feels the splatter of cum hit their chests at the same time, about to say something comforting. He breathes out the first syllable before Karkat lifts a hand to stop him, languid as it is post climax.

“Shh. Give it a fucking minute. I’m fine, just- keep doing what you’re doing.”

Dave is obviously thrown off, but he goes with it. He sucks hard on the nipple, biting slightly. Karkat’s dick has barely begun to deflate when it seems to be perking back up again. His blood powers are mighty in-fucking-deed. Karkat is still sensitive from the initial climax though, and when Dave starts to slide his hips back, the noise he makes is sinful.

“Too much?” Dave has started making his way back up his chest again, but he pauses to look at the mess he’s making of Karkat.

“Don’t fucking stop.” The threat is inherent. Karkat’s fists have made a home clinging to his bedspread, chest laboring with thick breaths and post verbal noises. Dave slides his hips back in with another slow slick movement and Karkat’s mouth hangs open. He’s going to get some complaints from his neighbours.

Dave’s lips move like short love songs across Karkat’s skin, each impression making Karkat shake from tenderness. Kisses are followed by mumbled compliments and affirmations. When Dave’s hips start moving at a faster pace, mouth not stopping for the progression, Karkat thinks he might start crying. He might have already started. He’s not used to the positive attention. Added with how devastatingly sensitive he is, he’s overwhelmed in the best way possible. Dave kisses his lower cheek and finds a tear.

“You’re still okay, right?” Karkat nods. “Good, ‘cause you’re fucking stunning right now.”

Dave lifts his hands to wipe off the tears streams with his thumbs. There’s a moment of reverence, just taking all of Karkat in, before he kisses him. Deep, and a little desperate. Karkat’s arms leave their spot on the bed to wrap around Dave’s neck, fingers curling into short blond waves and embed themselves between the strands. One of Dave’s hands leave to grab another fist full of Karkat’s ass, increasing the pace of his hips to hear Karkat’s mumbled curses against his lips. They’re close, Dave leaning in so deep that Karkat’s dick is being gently stroked by the shallow dip of Dave’s abs. He feels like he might cry all over again.

Dave’s finally starting to make his own noises, low and shallow as they are. He’s quiet, and his affectionate hands twitch and shake where they hold Karkat’s cheeks. Karkat is already ramping up into his own secondary climax when Dave has to pull out of the kiss. His head hangs next to Karkat’s, with the soft muffled noises pumping straight into Karkat’s ear. Dave reaches his climax with a raspy Karkat on his lips, shaky legs pumping him through the process. He milks himself for every possible pleasure.

Karkat feels Dave release his hot load and instantly whimpers, dick twitching with firm appreciation. It takes a minute or two after Dave’s own release for Karkat’s semi-dry climax to follow. He’s sensitive and sore, his dick trapped against Dave’s stomach, but he can’t be fucked to move him. The dick in his ass still feels good after all, not pressingly so. Dave’s chest rising and falling on top of him is calming in ways he didn’t expect. Dave’s arms move to rest around their heads with a deep huff from Dave.

“Gimme a minute, an’ I’ll get something to wash you off with.” He’s still panting, placing a little kiss on Karkat’s cheek. He has no fucking right to be this considerate.

Karkat grunts, and in a moment, Dave leaves. There’s two other doors, one to the bathroom and one to his pantry. Dave can figure it out.

Karkat hasn’t moved a muscle, laying with his hands on his face and sighing. This was a mistake. Dave is going to be gone tomorrow to wreak havoc on a public park or some poor CEO’s office, and Karkat is going to be left here, feeling empty and lonelier than before. It wouldn’t be an issue if Dave was more of an asshole, but no, he has to go and be _nice_. In a way, that’s worse. It gives him something he can’t have just to tease him. He can’t even blame Dave’s natural chaotic energy for this. Karkat is the one who let Dave into his apartment, after all. He was the one who needed to fill the empty pit in his stomach with an eager stranger. One who now knows his secret identity.

Dave finally comes back with the condom off and a wet washcloth in his hand. “Oh man, are you tired already?”

“No, just thinking about shit.” Karkat sits up, feeling some of his own cum roll down his chest. Not fantastic. Dave snorts and starts wiping it off. “You don’t have to, I can do that myself.”

“I know I don’t have to.” He keeps sliding the cloth along him anyway. It’s so sweet it rounds back around to hurting again. Karkat reminds himself that he doesn’t have time for something like this anyway. It only slightly staves off the ache.

For right now though, he has to enjoy it. Making the most out of this situation is crucial if he wants to look back on it fondly. When Dave is done clearing off his chest, Karkat reaches his hand behind Dave’s head to tug him in for another kiss.

Dave laughs softly a pulls back. “Dude, what’s that about?”

“I just wanted to.” Now he’s feeling self conscious about it. At least Dave’s hair is soft.

“That’s cool. You can keep doing it if you want.” Dave gives him a short smooch before reaching underneath him and lifting. Karkat scrambles to hold onto Dave properly, legs wrapping around his waist and arms clinging around his neck. What the fuck is he doing now? Dave pulls the neatly made bed apart and puts Karkat down into it, rolling over him to lay on the other side, facing Karkat. Oh. He’s cuddling. Karkat turns to face him, with slight stiffness as his ass demands mental attention. Dave’s face is smooshed into a pillow. The shades still haven’t come off, and that can’t be comfortable. Karkat looks over at him. He always figured that those were his “mask”. Maybe he’s just uncomfortable with people seeing his face all the way.

“Are you going to take those off before you pass out?”

“Probably.”

“Are you going to do it soon?”

“You’re really jonesing to see my eyes, huh.” He smiles. Karkat isn’t not interested. Karkat shrugs, trying to be casual about it, mirroring Dave’s usual attitude. Dave laughs. “I don’t mind man.”

He pulls at corner of his shades and tugs off, revealing his bright red eyes and setting the shades behind him on the other bedside table. He rolls back around, and Karkat gets a better look. He doesn’t seem to have any pupils, instead replaced by a deep red gear, cogs sliding around it every second or so. After staring at them for a while, the main gear moves, and Karkat jumps a little.

“I know, fuckin’ weird right? I don’t want to creep people out.”

Karkat shakes his head. “I think they’re pretty. I just didn’t expect that.”

When Dave smiles, Karkat can see it reach his eyes, as if Karkat wasn’t fucked enough already. Dave is too hot to be real. “You’ve got room to talk.”

“What.”

“I just spent the last forty two minutes telling you how gorgeous you are man, are you kidding me?” Dave is still laughing, looking over Karkat’s face like he’s seeing the stars for the first time. It’s so much easier to tell what he’s thinking now. His eyes are the most expressive part of his face. Seeing him like this snaps on a level of perspective Karkat needed. Dave’s expression shifts, sinking into something bittersweet. He’s laying, looking at Karkat, and Karkat’s heart clenches. What’s making him so sad?

“Don’t punch me for this but. Do you believe in fate?”

Karkat pauses. That’s a weird question, and maybe one a little committed for what he thought this was going to be. There’s a weird scoop in his chest, a glowing ball of hope pulling up on his stomach. “Why?”

“It’s just like. That’s my thing. I can go anywhere, any time I want, do whatever I want, but there’s a tether constantly pulling me in certain directions, to certain events necessary to… something. And I can either follow it and experience what it wants me to do, or ignore it, and suffer the consequences. This is the first time it’s ever brought me somewhere I’ve wanted to be.”

Oh. He’s seen enough romance movies to know the implications, of true love and destined romance, fated meetings and starcrossed trysts in the night. It makes his romantic side absolutely swoon. His caution, usually there to ring alarm bells for moments like these, is taking a minute. He’s a high profile superhero in the city, he should be being more careful about situations like this, and yet, looking at Dave’s face.

His gut is telling him to trust Dave.

“Is that a good thing?” Karkat feels smaller than he’s ever been, dreams assembled years ago bricking themselves back up into place.

“I think so. It feels like a good thing.” Dave seems more tentative, fragile. It’s just two men laying in bed, staring at each other hopefully, locked in a perfectly still moment. They’re both afraid to move in case it might break.

Karkat breaks the silence by being bold. He wants to do something for himself, to make himself happy instead of being content to wait. He wants more of this in his life. “We should see each other again.”

Dave’s relieved smile pops up, hand reaching up to cover over the small celebration he’s having in his head. “Fuck yeah, I’d love that.”

Karkat finally smiles back, nodding. He feels like crying again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Dave swoops in to cuddle closer, gripping around his torso and squeezing. Karkat does the same, latching on like a baby koala.

“Hey, did you ever use those fuzzy handcuffs?”

“Fuck no, I would never debase myself like that, especially with something that fucking cheap. I have standards.”

“Noted. Buy better handcuffs.”


End file.
